


Wingless

by devdev2017



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, fantacy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9524846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devdev2017/pseuds/devdev2017
Summary: First Onóra's brother stole her throne. Then he made her a prisoner in her own home. Now her kingdom is being threatened by a band of Freedom Fighters.Thun, having been born into slavery, has never known freedom. The empire has taken everything from him, including his wings. Now he is cutting a bloody path to freedom for himself and the others whose ancestors fell from the Goddesses and God's grace. The so called Fallen.Can two beings from different classes find a way to save their people? Can they find the freedom they crave?





	1. Chapter 1

The day that his mother died was the day Caius realized that he would only ever love one woman. Of course Onóra had only been about nine then, but she was the only one he would love. Mostly because she was the only one who had ever loved him. Having been born without magic he had been a disappointment to his mother. She had only ever looked at him with sad, pitting eyes. A series of illnesses had made him weak of arm. Which translated to being a disappointment to his father, who wanted a warrior son as strong as himself. Only sweet Onóra accepted him, and loved him, just the way he was. 

Brilliant little Onóra was covered in blood when he realized his love. Her magic had always run a little wild. Today though she had exhibited perfect control. Executing the mercenaries with the same precision as they had shown in killing the queen. Caius had been splattered in cast off too. Not a drop was spilled by his hand. 

She looked feral. Like one of the slaves who fought in the arenas. Her hair blowing in a nonexistent breeze. Her riding dress, made of the finest materials for the visit to the Fridwa lands, was unrecognizable. It was torn, stained by mud and blood such that he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. She had lost a shoe in the fight. Around her foot plants sprouted up in response to her mere presence. Her body stood proud and strong. For a child. The red dripped off of her as if she had just come out of the rain. 

Drip, drip, drop.

Red. The color of love. The color of death. It had always been Caius’ favorite color.

Then, like a puppet cut from its strings, Onóra stopped. The power faded. She started bawling. Adding snot and tears to the ruined dress. Her shoulders shook with the force to her sobs. Caius found that he liked her even better this way. 

“You wretched witch! You will pay for what you’ve done,” a mercenary roared. No, he wasn’t a mercenary. The tattoos showed he was from the Suzerain's own bloodline. The Fridwaians had purposefully killed the queen. The Fridwaians had killed Caius’ mother. Now one had a sword raised against Onóra. Take his mother, sure, but he would be damned before he let some tattered northerner take his Onóra.

Caius picked up a sword too heavy for him. He rushed the assassin. Their swords clashed. His opponent batted Caius’s sword out of his hand easily. He stumbled out of the way of the man’s next swing. Onóra was screaming. Apparently he hadn’t been quite fast enough. The tip of the sword scratched just below his left eye, trailing to his jaw. The man swung too far, throwing himself off balance. Caius pulled out the hunting knife Onóra had given him for his thirteenth birthday. He thrust the knife into the vulnerable throat in front of him. 

When he turned Onóra clung to him. Covering him with the same blood and mud that coated her. He wrapped his arms around her whispering, “Everything is alright. It’s all over now.”

“No it’s not,” she looked up at him with terror bright in her eyes, “it has only just begun,”

Their queen lay dead. The king held no love for either of them. Their kingdom stood on the brink of civil war. None of that mattered to Caius, Prince of Eveon. For he knew he loved Onóra. Her love was all he would ever need. And he was certain in that moment that she loved him in return.


	2. Onóra

Over the years Onóra had learned many things. The lesson she was reflecting on at the moment was that just because she was a witch and had powers did not in any way mean she had control. Since her mother had been unable to teach much of anything before she had died Shadow had taken on the role of master. The fox was a poor substitute. Which was why he was trying to teach her to channel her ancestor Kynthia. If there was someone who could teach her it would be the Moon Goddess. They had been at it for years now and were no closer to making contact. Outside of a few odd visions. 

“Concentrate,” Shadow said. He was the only fox she had seen with black fur. Not that Onóra had seen many foxes. When Caius had found out her love for nature he had restricted her to the palace garden. The five candles around them burst into fireballs. She poured water over each flame from the jug she kept by her for these sorts of incidents. 

“Try again,” Shadow instructed. The raised fur of his tail screamed his frustration. Every time she asked the fox assured that he was mad at himself for being a failure as her teacher. She hadn’t asked in years worried that it had shifted towards her. 

“Just once more. After that I’m done,” She said. She went to the drawer where she kept the pieces of her alter hidden away. She went to grab the first candle. Heat washed over her palm stilling her hand. She might not have been good with her powers but she had learned to listen when the world spoke. She pulled back a loose piece of cloth to reveal a raven feather. She had gathered it on her only trip to the Alma tree at the heart of the Fata’s kingdom in the east. It had become the representation of air for her first alter. Shadow leapt onto the vanity startling Onóra out of her memories. 

“Air has a strong connection to communication. The raven Elax is able to travel between the worlds of living and dead like Kynthia. It could be a sign of something trying to communicate. Or a not so subtle suggestion to give the candles a break,” Shadow teased. It drew a smile to her face. She felt her shoulders loosen realizing how tense she was. No wonder she kept failing. 

“I’m going to use all my old element representations. I feel like I’ve gotten too far from myself,” She said gathering everything into her arms. She placed the feather in the south calling forth the element of air. Next was a wooden figure of a bear to represent earth in the east. After that came a bronze star for fire in the south. Finally there was a sea shell for the west. When she finished she sat in the middle and called forth creation the last element. 

Onóra’s eyes drifted closed. She relaxed as much as she could to open herself to what might be trying to communicate with her. She didn’t get a reaction. She opened her eyes to ask Shadow if she should move on to projecting her communication. It felt like she had been dropped into a half frozen lake. Images flashed by her. Beings of every race. Three so wondrous they couldn’t be of this world. Then a twisted form appeared. She saw white feathers turn black. Honorable hunters turned to bloody beasts. There was fighting. Bloodshed. Pain. Suffering.

“I release the circle!” Onóra screamed when it became too much. Shadow was calling her name. He had curled himself up in her arms. If the bite on her wrist was anything to go on he had tried to wake her that way too.

“What did you see?” his voice calmed her racing heart.

“The different Beings turning into monsters. There was so much death. So much hate,” she said. Tears ran down her face. She had never even imagined so much violence. Sure she heard the tales of old wars. Never were the descriptions as vivid as what she had seen.

“It sounds like you saw The Fall,” Shadow said.

“I didn’t know that the creation of the Fallen was so terrible,” she admitted.

“Saturn did a number on many of the bloodlines, Nack, Fata, Cyno, Oraes. Not even the winged Hraefn saw past her lies. The only ones to escape her wrath were the humans,” Shadow recalled as if he were there and had not learned this information from his parents. Who in turn learned it from their’s. So on and so forth

“It’s not like we needed a lesson in how to be evil,” Onóra said. The face of her brother popped into her mind. She shuttered to think what would have become of humanity had Saturn succeeded in turning them too. What kind of twisted Fallen would it have created?

“Don’t forget your lessons. The Dark Creatures are not evil,”

“I know, I know. The Goddess Kynthia could not fix their mangled bodies. She did however give them the ability to make their own decisions. They’ve made the choice to do bad which is worse,” Onóra said. She gathered up each of the elemental representations. Placing them back into the drawer where she had gotten them. 

“Says the girl who lets them be enslaved,” Shadow said. His words caused something ugly to twist in her gut.

“I wasn’t even born yet. If anything it was my great-grandmother’s fault,” She argued. She kept her movements measured as she removed her prayer robe. Hanging it within the wardrobe with her other cloths.

“You are an adult now,” Shadow pointed out. 

“And a prisoner in my own home. What would you have me do? Beg for Caius to free the slaves?” 

“The day will come when you run out of excuses,” Shadow warned. Onóra stormed out of her room. Never had she been so bothered by her familiar’s words. She blamed the vision. Not just for the horrific scenes it showed her, but for sapping her energy. It had also made her hungry. She could return to Shadow and their argument after she got some food.

Another lesson that she had learned over the years was that the ones who knew everything were not the suzerain. No, the true knowledge holders were the cooks. All of the staff went to the kitchens to eat. There they eagerly ate food and let their tongs wag. Her father, King Diamas, had set up meal schedules so the staff couldn’t hold all the gossip. He forgot that the cooks were always there regardless.

She came to the building that contained the vast kitchens. Even outside in the winter chill she could feel the heat from the kitchen fires. The fire places in the kitchens were taller than her. If she were to stretch her arms out she wouldn’t even reach halfway across one of them. Slaves weren’t permitted to work in the royal kitchens. Fear that they might poison the house had ensured only well paid workers. The fire tenders were the best paid outside the head chef. They added log after log to feed the fires. Drenching all around in sweat. The room smelled of smoke and cooking food. People bustled around. Tending to one pot or another.

Standing calmly in the chaos was Juno. The head chef was barking orders. The other cooks and servants rushed carefully to follow. When Onóra had been a child she imagined that this was what a battle field looked like. She had pretended to be a soldier. Sneaking across enemy lines to find information to report to her own general, her mother. She had discover evil schemes of steamed broccoli. Weaknesses in their defenses like Cliff who would give her a cookie if she pouted long enough.

Her father had disapproved of her childish games. He especially didn’t like her interactions with the servants. Mom had said that it was good practice for when Onóra would be queen. Her father hadn’t said anything against that claim. He clearly hadn’t approved of that either because when he took Mom’s place as ruler father had named Caius his heir. And Onóra little more than a prisoner. 

The kitchens were one of the few places she found comforting. As she walked over to Juno other cooks and servants stopped in their tracks. That was odd. She visited often and knew most by name. The kitchen grew quiet for the first time in Onóra’s memory. Juno noticed it too.

“What are you doing? Get back to-Onóra,” Juno left the pot of on the fire. Something she had only done one other time.

“I’m so sorry your majesty,” Juno wrapped Onóra into her thick arms. Murmurs of agreement filled the kitchen with a soft buzz. She felt her stomach drop. The last time Juno had left a pot she had been stirring was when the Queen died. 

“What happened?” Onóra pulled back from the old woman.

“Didane anybody tell you? Prince Jerrik has been taken hostage by Thun the Barbarian,” Juno said. She and the others must have worried that Onóra would collapse because she found herself being ushered into a chair. Really she should have been able to stand threw the shock. Most of the kitchen staff were on their feet all day.

“It’s not just the prince that was captured. The whole of Diag is being held for ransom,” a girl added as she sat pealing potatoes. She was young. No more than fourteen. She had dark hair and light eyes. It was like staring into a mirror twenty years ago. 

“Aye but that cur asked for a separate ransom for the prince,” A man said. He brought over a kettle of steaming tea and a cup. The reference to a cur meant they had to be talking about a Cynon or a Werwolf.

“Donae worry about yer nephew too much. Thun does this all the time, but no one’s ever died,” Caden said. Someone brought over a plate of biscuits. Was it Mark?

“Why doesn’t the emperor do anything about it then?” potato girl asked. Oh to be that naive. To be so bold as to criticize the emperor. It was hard to remember being so young. So foolish.

“Hold your tung girl. These walls have ears,” Juno scolded.

“Because so long as he’s paid he isn’t a threat,” Mark carried on.

“And each time he gets away with it the slave asks for more. One day he’ll ask for too much. What’ll the emperor do then?” The girl ignored Juno. If she continued to disregard Juno she wouldn’t last long in the royal kitchen. At the least she better learn to keep her disrespect of the emperor to herself. Then again it might be better if the girl were forced to leave her job. There were fates worse than a whipping for disrespect. Caius was a master of them all. 

“I think he already has,” Clair shook her head as she walked into the conversation. She was the one who brought food to the royalty. She heard everything. Onóra had learned from the woman that there was power in invisibility.

“What have you heard?” Onóra asked.

“Thun made two ransom demands. Each more outlandish than the last,” Clair started arranging pastries on a serving plate. She probably would have been able to carry more if the plate wasn’t solid gold. 

“Is the emperor going to pay?” Onóra asked. Clair held out the tray of pastries.

“He’s in assembly trying to decide. It seems they are feeling a bit peckish,” Clair said. Onóra took the tray without a second thought. If Jerrik died it would be just the excuse Caius needed to trap Justina in the palace. 

She left the cooling tea on the table. She needed to know where the assembly stood. What was Jerrik doing in a place like Diag anyway? Onóra turned from the worried looks of the few friends she had. Why was this Thun so fixed on attacking the empire? Her braid swished behind her as she made her way to the assembly room.

The handcrafted doors loomed ahead of her. She took a moment to fix her appearance before slipping in. The room was in an uproar. One of the assembly even threw a book at another across the room Emperor Caius sat atop his feathered pillows observing his assembly with a board eye. Onóra straitened her back. Plastering a pleasant, if fake, smile on her face. She strode gracefully word the nearest of the assembly. 

“Pastry suzerain?” She asked ticking her head to the side.

“Thank you princess,” he said taking a snack from the plate. She went along the rows repeating the process. Her stomach roiled in disgust. She had got from training to be a queen to a kitchen maid. Once most of the suzerains were munching on snacks the assembly was much quieter. The assembly members who weren’t eating argued in circles. 

“It’s too much!”

“-barbarion-“

“War!”

“-gold,”

Onóra stood in the back. When Caius looked in her direction she hid behind one of the, ahem, larger lords.

“How did this happen?” She whispered to suzerain Darius.

“Assembly rivalries are quite buzzer aren’t they? I think in the case of Thomas and Alexie it has something to do with one of them marrying the other’s sweetheart-“

“No, no, I meant how was my nephew kidnapped? Why was he in Diag in the first place?” She cut him off. She filed the information he had provided about the two suzerain away for later. 

“I’m not sure. After the ransom amount was announced we all got not a bit of a tizzy. Would you like me to ask?” Darius offered. He had been a close allie over the years. He had be instrumental in arranging Justina and Jerrik’s marriage. 

“Yes, please,” She placed an extra pastry in front of him. Onóra wound her way through the room. She didn’t need to be seen by Caius. Funny how he no longer wanted her at his side. It used to be mandatory that she attend these things. Now she had to risk his wrath by being here. The information too important to simply let those like Darius, trusted though they may be, report back to her.

“How is it that Prince Jerrik, our only heir, was taken hostage?” Darius’ voice bored across the room. Caius sat up. Glazed eyes now focused of Darius. Before cutting sharply to General Gatlin.

“Yes, General explain to this assembly how you allowed a slave to take Diag,” adding after a pause, “and Jerrik.”

“Most of my forces were recalled earlier this year to protect the larger cities. We were greatly outnumbered,” Gatlin stood strait as he explained. He cut an impressive figure in his armer and green cloak. He looked road weary. She wondered if her brother’s old friend had just gotten in.

“You had plenty of time to prepare extra defenses,” Caius said. Onóra placed the tray of food down. She picked up the heavy water pitcher. Moving carefully to refill empty glasses. Commenting in her head that extra defenses did not make up for lack of men. Especially against Fallen.

“Defenses don’t mean much when the slaves who build them turn around and tell Thun’s Freedom Fighters all the weak points,” Gatlin said. So the rumors she had been hearing were true. The slaves were turning against their masters. Too bad they couldn’t out run the master. 

“Freedom Fighters!” Caius spat. At least the name fit. It was better then the Herafen Battalion, which had only a half-breed Herafen and was really made up of Queen Primdar’s few companions.

“That is what Thun’s army is calling themselves,” Gatlin said. His face was unreadable. Except for the slight twitch of his sword hand. Caius' face on the other hand was turning purple. Onóra kept a weary eye on the pair as she filled cups. 

“Army? No, that slave has a bunch of other slaves following him around from town to town. Pillaging our people and wreaking havoc on our economy. You had an army. Yet you called for retreat!” Caius pointed an accusing finger at him. Grumbles of agreement went up from the assembly. Onóra frowned. The retreat was the right move if she knew the general’s mind. Which she did.

“I lost half my force,” Gatlin kept his voice calm. The only thing that had kept him alive over the years was his ability to keep his temper with his childhood friend. Her brother had no such reason to hold back.

“They were imperial soldiers. Better equipped and trained. The only reason so many could fall to such rabble is your inability to lead,” Caius stood from his throne. He stood taller than Gatling but only just. Thanks to the stairs he stood on.

“If you had summoned an army to wipe out Thun’s forces when he was attacking travelers and caravans like I suggested-“

Onóra filled a cup. Placing it back closer to the suzerain’s right hand than it had been. She whispered into his left ear, “Carefull my lord I just filled your cup.”

The man turned to her while reaching out with his other hand. Water spilled everywhere. Including the documents of the suzerain next to him. Onóra moved away from the squabbling pair as they tried to clean up the mess. The ‘caouse’ drew the attention of the room. Gatlin scanned the room. Hand on his sword. When he noticed her Onóra glared. She wasn’t about to let him talk his way into an execution.

“It still doesn’t explain why prince Jerrik was left to be held hostage,” Darius said. The assembly’s attention now back on Gatlin. 

“We did not know the prince was there. If we had I never would have left our prince,” Gatlin swore. Onóra narrowed her eyes. That had better be the truth.

“But you still would have left Diag to be held for two hundred thousand gold coins!” Caius stamped his foot. Doing a wonderful impression of a toddler. The assembly grumbled at the amount. Onóra pondered the price. It was a lot of gold. Still it wasn’t the most that could have been demanded.

“Why is the barbarian demanding so much?” Lord Thomas questioned. In the end that question shouldn’t matter. Money was money. All beings coveted it in some way. These Freedom Fighters were no different.

“He frees the slaves in each town he seizes. There are always those who will sell food and shelter for a price,” Gatlin said. It made little sense to Onóra. Why wouldn’t Thun just send the other freed slaves south to the Dark Isles? They would surly find sanctuary in the heart of the Fallen territory. Why keep them all together?

“It is an expensive business to feed and shelter slaves. That’s why I’ve been trying to get the bill passed to give tax breaks to house holds and businesses who have a substation number-“

“Alexie we are not here to pass laws. We are here to decide to pay the ransom or not,” Thomas said. The pair certainly had it out for each other today. It was underwhelming to have discovered that their rivalry, like so many others, was over a woman.

“If we don’t pay the ransom for Diag what will this Thun do?” Caius asked. 

“Burn the city and its inhabitants to the ground,” Gatlin said.

“Why don’t we just let him?” Caius asked. He once again sat casually on the pillows. The room was stunned. No one spoke. Onóra prayed to the Three that this would insight a rebellion. A selfish thing to wish for, she knew. That knowledge didn’t stop her from wanting to see Caius’s head roll. 

“I-we do not advise such an action Emperor,” One suzerain spoke up. No one openly agreed but no one objected either. There were necks to save from the executioner.

“It would make you as an emperor look…” Another added but trailed off. He was a brave soul for even trying.

“Weak my liege,” Gatlin said. The general didn’t care much for his neck today. If she had to create another distraction it would draw too much attention. She couldn’t afford to loose her most valuable ally. 

“It was you who lost the town!” Caius protested.

“But the people see me as an extension of yourself,”

“Maybe I should remedy that,” Caius threatened.

“You could kill me Emperor, but you would still have the same problem. You would also be down a loyal general,” Gatlin said, bowing low. Onóra’s smile became real. There was reason and wisdom to their father’s decision to send Gatlin South. Neither of which Caius shared. Loyal her foot. She didn’t even trust the general. 

“Fine we have no choice,” Caius relented. There was grumbling but a general agreement within the council. Onóra turned toward the doors with this decision made. Knowing that Jerrik, and there for Justina, was safe. Gatlin’s next words caused her to spin on her heel.

“What about the other two hundred thousand Thun demands for the prince?” Gatling asked. His eyes flickered to Onóra. Another two hundred thousand? This Freedom Fighter was pushing it. In her opinion nothing was worth more than her people and family. Caius did not share that opinion. 

“What was he doing there?” the Emperor asked. He should have been able to answer that himself. Jerrik was his heir. His family. Of course Onóra couldn’t answer that either.

“And without a guard or notifying the general,” a suzerain added.

“It is suspicious that he was in Diag when it was attacked,” Bill said. Onóra made note of suzerain Bill. She had counted him as a neutral party. If he was going to say things like that then he was certainly an enemy now. She couldn’t let an accusation like that go. It wouldn’t do to put trust in the wrong person. 

“He was there to protest the slave auction that was supposed to happen sometime in the next week,” Alexie scoffed. 

Why did Jerrik do this now? He was the only male heir. Couldn’t he have waited until he was emperor? Sure there would have been protests. Some rebellions. In the end no one would have batted an eye.

“Why does that fool continue to object to the base of our economy? Damn my sister for pushing his and Justina’s marriage,” Caius said. The assembly’s eyes drifted to Onóra. She smile politely. 

“I never should have trusted her judgment on the matter. Justina was better off here. What if that boy is in league with the slaves?” Cause plowed on. Onóra huffed. Jerrik might be against slavery, but he was loyal. If that loyalty was tied up in his love for his wife all the better in her opinion. 

“Their marriage stopped the uprisings in Fridwa. If we don’t pay the ransom we could be stuck dealing with a civil war,” Brett adjusted his glasses.

“And we would still have to deal with Thun,” General Gatlin reminded. 

“I’d rather not pay for a potential enemy,” Caius whined. Onóra rolled her eyes. Thun was already an enemy. 

“It would upset your daughter,” Darius pointed out. It would do more than that. Justina and Jerrik had fallen deeply in love. It had been more than Onóra could have hoped when she made the arrangements. Now though she wondered if it would have been better if the two did not love each other as much as they did. She feared what Justina might do if driven mad by grief with not even a child to remember him by.

“I’m sure she would be glad to be rid of the galoot,” Caius said.

“It would make Onóra happy to have her niece back,” one of the suzerain said. He received the cold end of her glare for the comment. He shrank in his seat but did not retract the comment. 

“After Princess Justina has had time to grieve, a short period to be sure, there are others she could marry,” the young suzerain Kaius added. The boy’s parents had sought the emperor’s favor when naming their child. If there was any favor gained it was from Kaius’ personality being almost identical to that of the Emperor’s. 

“The marriage must be unsatisfactory the princess has yet to bear an heir,” 

“Or he’s impotent,”

“This barbarian can be dealt with but not if the empire goes broke,” The other assembly members went on with their opinions. 

“Emperor Caius, Prince Jerrik might be against the slave trade but he is loyal. I’ve served his family all my life. Please his death would be a tragic loss,” Brett pleaded. Caius sat back listening to all these arguments. He had a calculating look in his bright eyes. It sent a shiver down Onóra’s spine. That look was never directed at matters of state. 

“No. I refuse to bow to this slave any farther. Especially when the potential for betrayal is too great. One life is not worth so much gold. I will not pay this ransom,” Caius shook his head.

Onóra dropped the jug of water. It shattered on the ground. Water spilled over the red tiles. All eyes turned to her. These were not the kind eyes of the kitchen staff. No, these were the calculating and often cruel eyes of the assembly. None were more vile than those blue eyes belonging to her brother.

“What are you doing here?” Cause demanded.

“I came here to show my support for you, brother. Instead I find myself appalled. How can you do this to our family? How can you betray Justina?” She demanded. The bottom of her dress became soaked as she walked toward the throne.

“You shouldn’t be here, little sister,”

“She loves him. This will kill her,”

“Do not question my decisions,”

“Have I ever? I did not question when you raised taxes and jailed those who couldn’t pay,”

“Do not doubt my authority,” 

“I did not doubt you when you built a bridge just so you could ride a chariot over it,” 

“This is a place of men. Affairs of state are man’s business,”

“You used to ask me to be present at these meetings, despite father’s protests,”

“And I should have listened to him sooner. You are far too emotional for the political arena,”

“I beg of you,” Onóra dropped to her knees, “please save Jerrik.”

“My decision is final!” Caius stood from his throne again. Onóra stood up in a flash. Thunder could be heard even in the heart of the palace. 

“You cannot do this!” Onóra shouted. Gasps echoed throughout the room. She had felt the prickle of power, but failed to notice how she had summoned the spilt water. Whispers of ‘witch craft’ resounded throughout the room.

“Onóra that is enough!” Caius walked down the steps to stand toe to toe with her. She could hear the hail on the roof. The emperor bent toward her ear.

“Or do we need to continue this conversation in my chambers?” he whispered. The water splashed back to the floor. The storm outside stopped but the clouds, like the storm that raged inside her, stayed. Onóra couldn’t contain her trembling hands. Damn him.

“Allow me to escort her majesty to her room,” General Gatlin volunteered. Caius hesitated a moment before nodding. Gatlin moved to stand beside her. His eyes questioning. His hand twitching for his sword. A command from her and it would all be over. Gatlin knew he would have to hang in order to cement Onóra’s legitimacy. He was willing to make that sacrifice. He cared enough about the Empire to kill the Emperor. He cared enough about her to die. She could save Jerrik. She could put a stop to Thun’s forces.

She made a different gesture instead. Gatlin set his jaw but let his hand fall. There was too much at risk. With her display just now the assembly would probably proclaim Gatlin innocent. Accuse her of using magic on the general to kill her brother. Which was ridiculous as she was forbidden to bring harm others. 

“Fine. The Assembly is dismissed. We will reconvene tomorrow to arrange the money and delivery. As well as a strategy to destroy this threat and avenge my heir,” Caius sept out of the room. Lords stayed whispering among themselves. Their eyes always on her.

“Come on your majesty lets go,” Gatlin said. He did not touch her. Tears burned her eyes as she led him out. When they reached her tower Gatlin stood at attention in her doorway. She went to the window. Noticing grimly that hail was scattered along with broken glass and ceramics. 

“What are we going to do?” He asked. His face was red now that he no longer had to conceal his rage. It was a testament of his loyalty to her that he had not killed Caius.

“I need to think,” She removed the jewelry from her person.

“You know I can’t come back once I leave you,” he was originally from the wild Akoni tribe. Born a man of action and unused to holding still for so long. If he had been free to he would be pacing her room. Another rule her brother had used to restrict her. No male could enter her chambers beyond the door. Any who did would be accused of attempting to rape her. Which meant they would be drawn and quartered. It had happened once when a servant had brought her food. He had been young and hadn’t been working in the castle long enough to know the rules regarding her. Caius had locked her in the dungeon for a month for allowing it to happen.

“You aren't my only ally,”

“Then why didn’t any of them speak up today?” Gatlin demanded.

“Why didn’t you?” Onóra turned the question back on him. She stood toe to toe with the large man. He still smelled of the dirt and sweat of the road.

“He already wants me dead. Not even Primdar could bring the dead back,” Gatlin said a weary smile pulled at his lips. If she just stood on her toes she could kiss him. She took a quick step back when she realized where her thoughts had lead. She couldn’t afford to be weaker than she already was. Her brother already had two grave threats to hang over her head. She didn’t need a third. She also knew that Gatlin would want more then just a night. Her heart couldn’t give more than that. They had once. Just one night. They couldn’t do that again. It would destroy their alliance.

“Caius wants everyone dead,” she reminded him.

“Except you,”

“That’s because he wants something different from me,” Onóra wrapped her arms around herself. Trying not to let her mind stray. She had to focus now. Gatlin gave no response. 

“Please leave old friend. I need to figure out how to save Jerrik. Or at least how to protect Justina,” she started pulling out candles and other objects so she could cast a circle. Perhaps the Gods would guid her to an answer. She placed them before sitting in the middle of the circle. Gatlin left. His boots echoed down the stone passage. When he was gone Shadow slinked through the window. He pushed himself into her arms. Onóra scratched him behind the ears.

“You know there is nothing wrong with wanting him,” Shadow said. He pushed his head into her hand. 

“Having him and wanting him are two different things,” she reminded the fox.

“So you have thought about it,” the fox smirked. Onóra stopped petting him.

“We have more important things to deal with,” she said. 

“I hate to watch as your life passes you by,” Shadow sighed. Onóra knew he wanted more for her.

“Until Caius is out of the way I don’t have a choice,” she argued. Instead of arguing back and lecturing her about living her life Shadow said, “You always have a choice. However I don’t think our general friend is quite right for you. Or you for him as the case may be,”

As he said this he looked toward her spell supplies scattered on the ground. The raven feather fluttered from its place with the other elemental representations. It floated into the circle despite the lack of wind to move it.

**Author's Note:**

> * Suzerain is another term for lord, specifically warlord. A hold out from the tribal ways as most suzerain have little if any experience with armed conflict.


End file.
